


What the Heart Wants

by Amaimono



Category: B.A.P, EXO (Band), VIXX, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alpha Jeon Jungkook, Alpha Min Yoongi | Suga, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate History, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fantasy, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Infidelity, M/M, Mates, Min Yoongi | Suga Is Bad at Feelings, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Park Jimin, Power Imbalance, Royalty, Slow Burn, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, for important world building reasons, women are extinct
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-03-31
Packaged: 2018-09-21 13:22:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9550880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amaimono/pseuds/Amaimono
Summary: As an alpha prince and the sole heir to the kingdom, Prince Yoongi is used to getting what he wants. That all changes, though, when his father decides it is time for Yoongi to take a mate and prepare to be king. As Yoongi is forced to choose between his supposed love for Jimin and his budding feelings for his new mate, Prince Jeongguk, things become more complicated than the man could have ever predicted. Suddenly, love was not as simple as he had thought it to be.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nunastro](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nunastro/gifts).



> I wasn't even sure if I should post this, but I hope you enjoy it. It's certainly...different. The next chapter should be up in the next few days. Updates might then prove slower, as I'll be finishing my 2Seok and trying to survive school.

Jimin gasped at the sensation of Yoongi's curved lips along the juncture of his jawline. Struggling against the urge to drag the slighter man closer, Jimin settled for tangling his small fingers in the prince’s jetty hair as pleasure thrummed through their veins. It did not seem to matter how many times they met like this: Jimin always came away hungry for more. Tipping his head, he pressed insistent kisses along the delicate shell of Yoongi's ear in a fruitless bid to draw the man's mouth back to his own. In that moment, the raven haired man was far too busy sucking a bruise into the skin below the dip of Jimin's collarbone, and he did not appreciate being interrupted. A sigh whispered through the full line of Jimin's lips. Rather than try to distract the man further, Jimin let his hand fall to rest on the strong stoop of Yoongi's shoulder. His calloused fingers traced lightly over the fine silk - a stray spiral of embroidery just holding his attention as Yoongi's breath ghosted over his moist skin. "A-ah," Jimin panted, resisting the urge to press his body into the lines of Yoongi's form. It was not his place to choose when and how their bodies were to meet.

Drawing back at last, the raven haired man smirked a little at the dazed expression on Jimin's features. "One look at your face, Jimin, and everyone will know what you have been doing," he teased, his voice a low growl that sent shudders through the stockier man's body. "Such a-" The sound of voices caused Yoongi to rear away from Jimin's body in a fluid motion, his fathomlessly dark eyes narrowing slightly. "I will send for your later," he snapped, waving a hand in dismissal. Jimin felt his heart lurch at the gesture; he knew it was instinct and nothing more that caused the man to act so. 

"Yes, your highness." Jimin quickly began tucking his clothing back into place as he disappeared down the hallway. As he turned around the corner, he could not help pausing just long enough to cast a longing glance back at the man he adored. They were worlds apart, so much so that it sometimes felt like Jimin was trying to brush his fingertips against the surface of the sun. Even if he succeeded in his goal, Jimin could not help but wonder if it would not destroy him.

Looking as immaculate as ever, Yoongi strode out into the hallway. "What do you want?" he growled, eyes still narrowed with displeasure.

The servant executed a quick bow, careful to dip to the proper deferential height, before straightening once more. "Your presence is required in the throne room, your highness. His majesty insists."

Yoongi's jaw twitched. His father. Of course it would be his father who would send a servant after him in the middle of his free hour. "I see. I will attend on him at once. You are dismissed." Fighting to keep his expression blank, the prince stalked down the hallway, his slippered feet making no sound on the smooth wood. He paid no mind to the grandeur of the palace about him - the delicately painted screens, the intricate wood carvings, the gilded furnishings - for his world had always sparkled with the sheen of too much wealth.  But he did notice the way the servants seemed content to pace more slowly down the hallway, watching his progress with far too interested eyes. And, as he approached the throne room, the vein in his jaw twitched once more. It seemed that every yangban man had gathered outside of the room, each trying to look as casual as possible in the act. Yoongi snorted. He had a feeling he knew just what this strange summons was going to lead to. Joy.

Two servants slid the doors open in order for Yoongi to enter the throne room, and he paused to bow to the figures seated on the dais. Keeping his fists curled at his side, the prince then strode forward to kneel before his father. Silence fell over the room as the door slid shut behind Yoongi, leaving the royal family to their 'private' matters. The raven haired royal was willing to bet there were at least two servants and an aristocrat hiding behind a screen somewhere, spying on the conversation. Word of whatever was to transpire would make its way through the palace before the prince even crossed the threshold upon his exit. If only, Yoongi thought wryly, the plebeians were as good at their actual work as they were at spreading gossip, the kingdom would be the model of efficiency. At long last, his father sat aside his tea and peered down his long nose at his only child. "Prince Yoongi," he drawled, trying far too hard to be more imposing than he was. Yoongi had not held him in any sort of reverence since he - well, it had been a good many years. Now he simply regarded the man before him as an important stranger, one who would dictate far too much of his future happiness. "We are so glad you could join us today. The servants seemed to be of the opinion that you had vanished, perhaps stolen away by some evil spirit."

The king's pointed eyebrow raise served as Yoongi's cue to speak. "I was merely meditating," he offered with a far too casual shrug. "Not my fault they have such poor sight as to have misplaced me."

It was clear by the way the king tucked his jaw in further and narrowed his eyes at the prince that King Yunho was attempting to convey his displeasure with his only son. "Regardless, we have important business to attend to, so it is good they were able to locate you. In the future, do try to be a bit more...visible in your meditations. When you are summoned, you are to report at once. Do you understand?"

Yoongi made a great show of bowing to press his head to the floor. "Yes, your majesty. I understand perfectly that I am to be visible and easy to find upon your slightest whim."

Rather than address the foolishness of his child's words, the king sat fully straight once more. "Today is an important day in the kingdom, one that will be remembered for generations to come." He smoothed his hands lightly over the brilliant gold silk of his robes, enjoying the way the fine material settled over his knees. "We have at last found you a mate worthy of your station."

I was right, Yoongi thought with a bit of a sigh. Sitting upright, he gave his father the most disinterested look he could possibly manage. Thinking of the idiotic antics of his personal guards helped; he gave them unimpressed looks so often a day did not pass without it occurring at least five times. In fact, once Wonsik had commented that he tended to be unsettled until he had received his first glare of the day. "I see," Yoongi managed after a moment. "And just who have you deemed fit to be shackled to me?"

The king's eye twitched, but he managed to repress the urge to lash out at Yoongi. Barely. "Prince Jeongguk of Ayana." At a glance, it was a reasonable enough choice. Ayana shared a border with Yoongi's own Hosoon, and at one point the two kingdoms had even been a whole unit. And where Hosoon had all the silk and farms a kingdom could desire, Ayana was blessed with one of the best armies in the known world. If the two could reconcile their differences, it was possible they would have a truly great alliance. Of course, that was all dependent on the marriage going well. But there was just one problem.

"I thought he was an alpha," Yoongi observed, rolling his head back a little so he could eye his father through the fringe of his unkempt bangs.

"He is." King Yunho's handsome features morphed into something of a smug smile. "His father and I agreed that an alpha match was no poor thing. In fact, King Minho suggested that the union would be stronger for having two alphas joined together, ruling the kingdom. I, of course, agreed immediately."

"And just how long do I have to contemplate my fate?" Yoongi's entire body had begun to thrum with the need to get out, out, _out_! before he began to scream. An alpha match? Was his father insane? Everyone knew that alphas mated with omegas - anything else was an abomination.

"A month. You will mate with Prince Jeongguk in one month."


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's amazing how fast a month goes by. Before Yoongi knows it, the wedding is upon him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The wedding ceremony here draws a good deal on both traditional Korean weddings and the mythos of the world I have created. Please do not consider it an accurate representation of Korean traditions, though I did try to be respectful of the material while having some creative license. 
> 
> I apologize for how long it took me to get this chapter out; thank you for sticking with me. It's at least longer than the last one, right? If you enjoy it, please feel free to scream at me in the comments. <3

"A month?"

Yoongi just repressed the urge to sigh as one of his personal body guards, Wonsik, repeated the amount of time he had until the mating ceremony for what felt like the hundredth time. "Yes, Wonsik. A month. Thirty days. Thirty-one nights. However you wish to represent it, the designation of time will do nothing but dwindle as the event draws closer."

Frowning, Wonsik continued to sharpen the knife held between his long fingers. "But that is so abrupt. Royal matings are supposed to take a literal eternity to put into motion."

Jongin, who had heretofore been distracted by a letter he was in the process of writing, briefly glanced up at the pair. "My cousin got married last year with only a week's warning. A month seems like plenty of time to me." He shrugged in a loose, fluid motion that was charged with barely controlled power. Unlike Yoongi, both of his guards were tall and strong with pure kinetic energy punctuating every line of their bodies. Compared to Wonsik and Jongin, Yoongi was ... well, it was safe to say that his father was greatly disappointed in how slight and short Yoongi had turned out to be.

Wonsik snorted as his compatriot. "Your cousin is not a royal, Jongin. Any noble or peasant can throw a little parade, ride up to his mate's house, hand over a goose, and get mated. Royal matings are political, which means contracts and negotiations. Plus it has to be a spectacle." He rolled his eyes. "You know, put on a good show for everyone who wants to stare at the prince and his new mate. Make it the sort of event that court poets memorialize in ink and the minstrels warble about as they travel through the kingdom."

"Yes, well, apparently my parents saw fit to do the negotiating and initial gift exchanges before informing me of the impending marriage. Papa was placed in charge of the gifts, though, so at least it is not entirely hopeless." He hesitated. "Although I am not entirely certain why my father picked the mate he did."

"I have heard that Prince Jeongguk is very handsome," Wonsik offered. "And his parents rule with a fair hand. My cousin is in the palace guard in Ayana, and he gets paid better than I do as a royal bodyguard."

"That probably has more to do with how wealthy Ayana is than anything," Jongin cut in. "Their trade exports are extremely sought after." Yoongi and Wonsik stared at the alpha in quiet surprise. "What?" He blinked at them.

"How on Earth do you know about their exports?" Yoongi drawled. "You barely remember what day it is, let alone things that fall under 'political feces,' as you so aptly put it."

A pretty dusting of pink dashed itself across the bronzed line of Jongin's cheekbones. "Yes, well. You see, it was when I was attending lessons with you. And your economics instructor was that absolutely gorgeous omega - you know, the one from Chixui? Well, and I might have wanted to impress him..."

Laughter erupted from Wonsik as though it boiled up from his chest and simply had no other recourse but to burst past his lips. The movement was so bone-deep that it rocked the tall alpha's body back, head rolling back even further than the rest of his body. "Oh, skies, you would, Jong. It is always about some pretty little thing with you."

Something of a half-smile turned the edge of Yoongi's mouth upwards. "At least something can catch his attention," the prince drawled. "Sometimes I worry that if an assassin were pretty enough, Jongin would melt in front of them rather than protect me."

As an indignant squawk fell past Jongin's lips, Wonsik set his knife and whetstone aside. He then hesitated, watching his prince's body language closely before coming to a decision. "How do you feel about your mate-to-be, Prince Yoongi? Are you...looking forward to the union?" Speaking to Yoongi about feelings never went particularly well, but Wonsik had at least practiced this conversation with a friend of his when the idea had come to him. Thankfully, said friend was far better with expressing emotions than Wonsik was; the alpha was often too shy to articulate himself well on serious matters.

Yoongi's sharp gaze seemed to dig under the layers of Wonsik's flesh the moment it landed on him. It was like being the subject of a butcher's very fine knife, delicate motions peeling back the skin of his polite question to uncover the flesh of the intent beneath. After a long, piercing silence, Yoongi closed the book he had been reading and set it aside. "You mean, how do I feel about the fact he is an alpha," Yoongi said flatly.

Wonsik did not even try to backtrack. "I guess. And, you know, the whole -" Here he stopped short, realizing he was treading into waters he did not even want to approach. "You are rather young to be taking a mate."

"My father's decision to flout the natural order does not surprise me." Yoongi did not even seem to blink as he simply stared Wonsik down. "He has no regard for any laws but the ones he makes, and the advantage of joining our house to the royal family of Ayana is too much to resist. Had there been another option, I am certain my papa would tried to have convinced my father to go that way instead. But, once my father makes his mind, it is unmovable." Something Wonsik thought Yoongi had inherited from his much despised parent. "As for the other... issue." He took a slow, deep breath, as he often did when discomfited. "I am the only child of a mating unlikely to produce any other offspring. It is important that I mate and reproduce as quickly as possible, since there is no other guarantee for the continuation of the bloodline. If I prove unfit as a mate or perish before I am able to reproduce, the kingdom would fall into civil war. The lines of inheritance are weak at best."

Jongin cast a sideways glance at Wonsik, their eyes meeting for a moment. "I hope, my prince, that you are able to find happiness with your mate. That you permit yourself to form a strong bond with him, that you might rule the kingdom well together," the lanky alpha said cautiously.

Yoongi's mouth drew into a firm, hard line. "Though it is unlikely that such will occur, I thank you for your sentiment. Now, if you will excuse me, I am going to wash and dress for dinner."

\---

The month melted away faster than mountain snow carried down into the valley. Yoongi felt as though the days were being ripped away from him, half-formed and never fully realized, until at last he was a mere three nights away from his wedding. His chest constricted at the thought that in three sunrises his life would be sealed away, taken like a prisoner of war to be placed in the hands of some alpha from a kingdom he could care less about. It was a sick joke. He had love and someone he would take for a mate, if circumstances were different. And yet, here he was, about to bond himself with another. He knew his father did not care about his happiness, certainly, but this was a level of callousness not even Yoongi had anticipated. But, the prince was a puppet in the grander scheme of things. He could no more defy his father than he could pluck the moon from the heavens as a betrothal gift. Instead, he was left to silently wallow in the wrongness of the entire thing - vowing to himself that he would not love his new mate for anything. After the announcement of the impending mating had broken throughout the court, Yoongi had spent an entire week assuring Jimin that his affections would not wane and that his heart would not change. The tiny omega had cried and cried, even as he had continued working, because he did not believe that Yoongi would be able to resist the pull of his new mate. But Yoongi loved Jimin. Their affair had not begun as a mistake, not like Yunho and – The prince cast that thought away so quickly it was like a heated sword in his hands. Yoongi would continue to follow his heart, even after the mating ceremony had taken place. Nothing would keep him from his beloved.

When the sun shook his flowing golden robes out across the sky the morning of the third day before the wedding, Yoongi found himself awoken far too early for it to be healthy. Servants poured in with orders to prepare him for the arrival of his papa. King Jaejoong, who many called the Son of the Moon because of his ethereal beauty, expected that his only child would be ready for his visit in a mere half a measure. Stumbling out of bed, Yoongi allowed the servants to prepare him for the day - shuffling him into the bath, placing food before him, helping into the selected outfit for the day - without complaint. By the time the knock came at the door, he was even mostly coherent. "Yes?" he called, just mindful enough to keep his tone neutral.

The door slid open to reveal Jaejoong, who seemed to live up to his celestial title in nearly every way. He, like his son, had porcelain pale with soft hints of pink along the line of his lips and cheekbones. But where Yoongi was slight and sharp, Jaejoong was willowy and soft. It was like comparing a dagger to the stem of a flower, placing the man and his son in the same context. There were many ways in which Yoongi was too much like his father - ways he hated about himself. Jaejoong, though, did not see the razors in his son's mind, but instead held hope that Yoongi would be a better man, a better king, than his father was. The marriage was just one piece of that puzzle. If it were to be a successful ploy, the king knew he would have to approach the coming conversation with delicacy and thoughtfulness. Sighing, he carefully sat across from his son and measured the words that rested on his tongue. "Yoongi," the king murmured, his voice the same, gentle lullaby it had always been. No, Yoongi thought, not quite the same. It was the same in the overtones, but hidden underneath the main melody were the weathered tones of sadness and weariness. "I am so proud of you, and of how hard you work to be the best possible prince for this kingdom. You sacrifice so much for your people. For your family." Jaejoong's gaze dropped to the table, studying the grain of the wood for a long moment. "But I hope you will not view this mating as too much of a hardship. I hope that, instead, you will seek to give your all to this relationship, just as you have to your studies. Just as you are a great prince, I am certain you will be a wonderful mate and husband." His teeth clicked shut as he fought back words his son did not need to hear - words that would only do harm. Words like 'unlike your father' and 'be more devoted than we were to one another.'

A heavy silence fell between them, one so stiff with repressed emotions that the servants and guards standing attendance began to shift nervously. Then, in his rough drawl, Yoongi murmured, "This mating is not of my choosing. How can I see it as anything but a sacrifice?"

Jaejoong looked up at his son, and he frowned at the anger burning in the umber pits of the alpha’s eyes. "Just because something is not of our choosing does not make it bad or wrong, Yoongi."

"You know my heart cannot belong to my mate," Yoongi continued, acting for all the world as though he had not heard his papa speak. "But I will do my best to treat him well. Just because I cannot love him does not mean I will be cruel to him."

The king pressed his tongue against the bottom row of his teeth. Sometimes, far more often than he cared to admit, he wished Yoongi had a different father - one less stubborn and prideful. Perhaps then his son would be able to see reason and understand how foolish his consorting with Jimin was. But, that was a conversation for another time. "Prince Jeongguk is the son of one of my dear friends, King Taemin. He and I went to school together as children, and I introduced him to his husband, King Minho. They are both very dear to me, though I do not get to see them as often as I should like." Jaejoong hesitated. "We always spoke about our children marrying. It is why I permitted your father to make the offer, even though circumstances are perhaps not as traditional as they could have been. I think, regardless of your ranks, you will find Jeongguk to be kind and generous, if he is like either of his parents. Just please," Jaejoong stretched a hand across the table to catch Yoongi's fingers in his grip, "please give him a chance. Happiness is such a fleeting delicate thing; do not murder it before it can learn to fly."

Yoongi looked away from his papa, but he did not pluck away his hand like he wished. "I will try," he offered after a long, long moment. "But only for your sake."

A relieved smile eased its way onto the handsome planes of Jaejoong's face. "Thank you, my son. I believe you will not regret this choice." Rising, Jaejoong came around the table and leaned down to press a kiss to the top of Yoongi's head. "Come. We should go. The horses are ready in the courtyard, and all of the baggage is packed. We should be to the venue in two days. Just in time for the ceremony to begin, with a bit of rest before."

Yoongi rose and offered his arm to his papa. "The sooner we leave, the sooner we get it over with," he agreed. Jaejoong continued to smile as he took his son's arm and started for where the horses waited.

\---

The Queen's Palace was a relic from another time. It had been built over a thousand years before Yoongi had been born, back when the last queen had ruled over the kingdom. She had been one of the last women in the world: A delicate, iron-willed flower who knew the time of her kind was at an end. A mere twenty years after her death, the last woman was born...and then they went extinct. No one understood how it had happened that women became obsolete, but some suspected it had to do with the emergence of rankings. Once omega men began to conceive, women began to decline in numbers. By the time of the last queen, even alpha men had evolved the ability to carry young. It was as though evolution had simply picked a new way of expressing humanity - a way that did not see women as part of the vision. Yoongi had read about the palace once, though, because he had been so curious about women, particularly the queen who had ruled so powerfully.

Queen Amber had been the jewel of her kingdom. Funny, strong, beautiful - she was everything womanhood was supposed to be. Countless poems and songs told of how she measured joy and justice equally, and how ardently her subjects loved her. But most of all, Queen Amber was the sun in her husband's sky. King Jinki loved her so deeply that he had commissioned the palace to be built as a place where she could escape the burning summer heat of the valley, and it was said he had designed the complex himself. One legend Yoongi had read even spoke of how the location of the palace was built near the village where the pair had met and fell in love. By all accounts, it was a very auspicious location to have a wedding because of the heritage of true love and enduring faithfulness that were embedded into the very stones the palace was built on. Never mind the fact, Yoongi thought, that the palace was built close to the borders between his kingdom and Ayana. Back in the days of King Jinki and Queen Amber, Ayana and Hosoon had been a single, unified kingdom. Four hundred years after the queen's death, the Blood Moon Wars had ravaged the kingdom, ultimately leading to the fracturing. His marriage to Jeongguk would certainly not be a return to the Moonrise Kingdom of Jaegyu, but it was a closer alliance than their kingdoms had courted since the split. It meant there was far too much pressure on the marriage to succeed, because if it failed it was unlikely that Hosoon and Ayana would enter negotiations anytime in the foreseeable future.

Yoongi sighed. He hated politics.

But the wedding... the wedding was not so bad.

As was tradition, the wedding ceremony began in the dead of the night. Yoongi had been staying in the inn located in the heart of the village; it would have been against every tradition in the books for him to have shared a roof with his intended. The moon was not even hung in the sky when Yoongi slipped out of bed and pulled on a simple black cotton outfit. He was the night given form, gone to woo the sun to dance across the sky. Lighting a single lantern, to represent the light of the stars, the prince started up the pathway to the palace. Because it was a royal event, he of course did not go alone. Trailing him were the guards and what seemed like half of Hosoon, each intent on seeing as much of the ceremony as possible. He did his best to ignore the whispers and the stares, though he did have at least enough presence of mind to not rub at his eyes or yawn too often. The trip up the mountain had been brutal, but so far as the citizens were concerned Yoongi had breezed up the trails. He had to look immaculate, because he was their future king. And future kings did not whine about having to get out of bed before dawn. Sauntering up to the gates of the palace, the prince drew to a halt and held aloft his lantern. Before him, blocking the entry, stood a man dressed in red armor - representative of the father of the gods. Yoongi took a deep breath before declaring in a clear, deep voice, "I have come to find the sun. Permit me to enter, that I might find him and bring him back to walk among the stars with me forever."

The man, who was tall and broad and very much an alpha by the scent of him, shifted the spear in his hands so its base dug into the soft soil. "The sun is mine to protect, and if you would take him from me, you must show you are worthy to take upon yourself that selfsame duty. Choose your path."

Yoongi had three choices. The first was to simply turn around and go back to bed. Honestly, that was the one that sounded the most appealing, but he knew what his parents would do to him if he turned tail. He could also choose to fight the man before him, though that did not seem like a pleasant course of action. The prince was a perfectly capable fighter, but his opponent was practically a brick wall he was so broad and well-muscled. A fight between them would be challenging, and not in a productive way. Which meant... Oh bother. Yoongi sighed and moved to hang the lantern from a pole attached to his back. With the light dangling behind his shoulder, Yoongi stepped forward. "I would not fight you to prove my worth," he said carefully, "because I come with a lover's heart this night and not a warrior's. Give me some task to prove my worth in your sight, that you will permit me to show my devotion without the need for harm." It was often the trickiest path, because the task was completely up to the guardian, but choosing this route meant Yoongi could only cause offense by failing. And he would not have to put his combat training to use.

A low chuckle echoed past the helm the warrior wore. “If you would take the sun from my protection, you must find your way into the courtyard without the use of violence.”

Yoongi hesitated. Somehow the bargain seemed like a trick – it could not be so simple. But, he had chosen the course of peace, which had been neatly laid before him. Pressing his fists together in front of his eyes, he bowed low to the man before him. “As you command, so shall I do.”

Internally grumbling, the prince cast his eyes about to assess the gate. It was far too tall to simply climb over, and no trees were kept close enough to climb. He mentally scoffed. Of course King Jinki would think to make the palace actually secure. How dare he. Folding his hands into the sleeves of his robes, Yoongi started off along the wall at a steady saunter, eyes scanning the wall for any sign of weakness. The warrior would not have given him an impossible task – the mating was legally already a done deal – but neither would his betrothed be so easily won over. After all, if the prince had waltzed through the gate without challenge the minstrels would have nothing to sing about.

In the stray flicker of the lamplight, Yoongi saw it: his in. It was a small, recessed door hidden in the shadow of the wall. Such entrances were often for servants or in case of emergency escape, or in his case emergence entrance. Sidling up to it, Yoongi carefully skimmed his fingers over the ancient oak – an impressive, solid piece – to check for any sort of traps. Finding none, he carefully eased the door open and found the hallway lit. Definitely the right place, Yoongi thought wryly. Something about the hallway seemed strange, though. The air was not as still as one so tightly sealed should be; the faintest current seemed to move from within the chamber to press against Yoongi’s robes. His angular eyes narrowed. Slinging the lantern off his back, he used the end of the pole to test the walls and the stone floors.

A high-pitched whistle of air sounded as the pole pressed against the pavers. Yoongi just resisted rolling his eyes. Arrows. Of course. Why would the palace have a normal entrance? Upon closer inspection, the darts were simply sticks tipped with dye, which would be enough to show he had failed his course. It meant his challenge was to cross the hallway (and reach the door to the courtyard on the other side) without touching the floor. Grinding his teeth, the prince returned the lantern to his back and considered his options. After a few moments of consideration, he stretched his arms out to either side to see if his limbs would be able to bridge the gap. The lengths of his fingers met stone, but he was not quite long enough to press his palms in for a more secure grip. He cast a rueful glance upwards, questioning just what gods he had offended to be in such a position. Had his parents forgotten how short he was or something? Honestly.

In a smooth motion, Yoongi jumped upwards and only just managed to brace his hands and feet against the walls. He winced as his muscles, already exhausted from riding his horse for three days, protested the motion, but Yoongi was nothing if not stubborn. Pressing on, he awkwardly hopped forward along the wall – cursing every single time he slipped or missed his grip. Sweat pressed thick against the line of his brow, curling the inky hairs along his hairline, by the time his feet finally touched the floor once more. The prince froze, expecting to be assaulted by an army of painted darts, but found his caution unrewarded. Sighing, he turned to the door and carefully pressed it open. Before him unfurled the courtyard, which was empty but for a single torch in the very center.

Yoongi let the ritual take over, as he was wont to do during such functions.

He moved boldly across the courtyard and pulled the lantern from his back. How the thing was still alight, he was not entirely certain, but the flame within was enough to light a match with. The prince then used it to coax the torch to light, signaling the heretofore hidden observers to light their own torches and lanterns. Soon the courtyard was awash in light and life as the nobility and peasants alike pressed to fill the available space. Closing the casing of his lantern, Yoongi turned to find the red warrior striding towards him. The prince’s most stoic expression settled on the fine lines of his features as he squared his shoulders in the vain attempt to match the height of the approaching alpha.

“You made it through faster than I thought you would,” the taller man all but laughed, tugging off his helmet once close enough. Shaking his bangs out of his eyes, the alpha beamed down at Yoongi with a beatific smile. His eyes, large and soft, were familiar from the distant echoes of Yoongi’s memories of childhood; King Minho looked utterly unchanged since the last time they had met. “I think you will be a better mate for our Jeonggukkie than I could have anticipated. You have my blessing to mate with my son.”

Bringing his hands up in front of his face once more, Yoongi executed a deep bow and held it. “I will try to prove worthy of your blessing,” he intoned soullessly. Rising, he then cleared his throat and let his voice carry, “Where is the sun hid? I have proven my worthiness and would now take my prize.” The words felt strange and heavy on the edge of his tongue. A prize? How could any alpha be his prize?

Unaware of Yoongi’s internal musings, King Minho gestured towards the open palace doors. “He awaits within. But you, my starry son, cannot greet the sun so poorly dressed. Just as he is all things bright and warm, so should you be refined and elegant.”

At that point in the ceremony, a noble family would usually drape a sash around their new son-in-law’s neck or perhaps even a robe. In a royal event, however, things were always that much more overwrought. The king waived over a number of servants, each of which advanced with an item in hand. Yoongi soon found his black cotton outfit covered by swaths of silver silk pierced with the most delicate embroidery detailing the moon and stars across its surface in fragile white thread. On top of this was a sleeveless robe in a beautiful midnight blue, which had swirling dragons twisting through the clouds rendered in painstaking detail in black thread. His waist was cinched with a heavy silver belt, and twin sashes depicting the crests of Hosoon and Ayana hung from it. The look was finished with a headband, a curious departure from the traditional hat. But the fabric seemed worn with history, the once bright cobalt dye faded to something far more muted over the centuries. Once Yoongi was ‘properly attired,’ King Minho brushed his hands lightly over the prince’s shoulders. “My mate and yours embroidered these robes themselves,” he confided in a low undertone. “We believe it is good luck that the grooms wear articles made by their future family.”

Yoongi tried to shy away from the fatherly feeling of Minho’s hands on his shoulders. “We share such a tradition. I believe my papa took our gift to your son before the ceremony began.”

If the prince were not mistaken, Minho’s eyes were clouded with the beginnings of tears. “Go and call for your mate. See for yourself if the gift was received.” Yoongi received one last heavy thump on the shoulder.

The half-moons of Yoongi’s nails dug into the meat of his palms in an attempt to ground himself. This was it: his last breath of freedom. Slowly, with each step carefully measured, he approached the large gong and lifted the mallet with both hands. Nervous sweat continued to gather at his hairline as he held onto the burning sensation of holding his breath for a few moments too long. Eyes affixed to the hammered bronze curve of the gong, he delivered a sharp tap to the metal surface. As the low knell filled the air, the assembled crowd turned to face the palace steps.

The great doors of the palace opened to reveal two figures standing all but intertwined – one dressed in emerald green robes and the other in vivid amethyst. Yoongi knew it was his papa and King Taemin even without being able to see their faces; the royals had become fast friends through dance lessons during their school days. Who but two finest dancers (and parents of the grooms) would dance for such an important ceremony? The moment the two kings began to dance, a murmur of awe slipped through the crowd. Jaejoong and Taemin moved together as though they were two expressions of a single self – every breath seemed shared. Their dance, with its fluttering steps and circling back together, represented the earth and the realm of the gods becoming joined through the marriage of the sun and sky. At first their steps were at odds as Jaejoong went one way and Taemin went another. But, as though connected by an invisible chord, their bodies would always draw back together. By the time they came to the bottom of the stairs, they were completing one another’s movements, bodies in constant contact. Like the two kingdoms, they were one in body and purpose. Yoongi’s heart clenched at the sight of his papa’s broad grin; he could not recall the last time he’d seen his parent so jubilant. In fact, he wondered if he ever had.

The two kings shared a secret smile with one another before carefully parting, backing away from each other until they stood on either side of the great staircase. As they bowed, Yoongi once again struck the gong. At the top of the staircase, a black lacquered palanquin appeared – carried by Prince Jeongguk’s bodyguards. They carefully moved down the steps before turning to set the box lightly on the platform that had been prepared for just such an occasion. Yoongi drew in a shuddering, halting breath as the tallest of the guards moved to slide open the door on the front of the palanquin. The soft sound of rustling fabric filled the sudden hush of the courtyard as Prince Jeongguk alighted from the box, unfolding in a graceful motion so precise it appeared like a move from a dance.

He was absolutely nothing like Yoongi had anticipated, and yet the prince was unsurprised by his mate’s appearance. Jeongguk’s broad shoulders easily filled out the golden robes Jaejoong had carefully embroidered with the five pheasants of virtue – each splashed on the fabric in a different hue of thread. Like King Minho, the prince had the body every artist in the kingdom rendered when depicting an alpha: muscle upon muscle, barely restrained power in every breath. But, as Jeongguk straightened, Yoongi could not help but admire the grace with which he moved, a gift no doubt from King Taemin. The red sleeveless coat Jeongguk wore barely shifted his movements were so smooth, leaving the circling phoenix design in the center unwrinkled. And his face… Yoongi could not help but stare. He had expected Jeongguk to be all sharp lines and overwhelming masculinity – like his body. But, he was soft and pretty, as though he were an omega instead. It was disconcerting, to say the least, because Yoongi had been utterly prepared to dislike his mate for being more masculine than he was; he had thought his mate might try to force him to be the proverbial omega in their relationship. And, well, maybe Jeongguk would try to do that, regardless of his features. But maybe he would not.

Moving three steps forward, Yoongi bowed low to the other prince, his eyes trained firmly on the ground. “Sun of my eternity, I have won the approval of your father and found my way to your side. I beg you to accept my heart and share all of your days with me, that you might light up my days and warm my nights as our lives become one.”

And then Jeongguk spoke: “My evening sky, if you can catch me, then you may claim me.” His voice was soft and breathy, like the sighing of a breeze through the branches of a peach tree. The delicate symphony of sound was yet another contradiction layered onto Yoongi’s perception of his mate; just as he thought he had puzzled Jeongguk out, some new detail would turn his opinions upside down.

The other alpha flashed Yoongi a small smile – cheeks bunched and teeth poking out – before whirling away in a ripple of silk. At the south end of the courtyard, a collection of musicians began to play “The Sun and the Moon,” the traditional anthem of a royal wedding. This, in all honesty, was the part of the wedding Yoongi had dreaded most. In this last part of the courtship, the mates-to-be were expected to dance together, moving however the music and their partner inspired them to. Freestyle. Yoongi was a fair enough dancer mostly because of his excellence in combat training, but he lacked the passion that made a truly great performer. Apparently Jeongguk was the opposite and had great enthusiasm for dance: He moved with an alpha’s power but the refinement of an omega. It was actually a little unfair how nicely he danced; Yoongi was beginning to wonder what flaws his mate had to make up for his seeming physical perfection.

Heaving a little sigh, Yoongi thought back to the practice dances Jongin and Wonsik had helped him with. Both of the other alphas (of course) loved to dance, and they had been more than happy to help their prince prepare for the courtship. They had run him through a veritable gauntlet of performances to countless styles of music in a myriad of weather conditions. In a way, dancing with Wonsik seemed closest to Jeongguk’s style, because of the sharpness underlying both of their movements. That thought helped Yoongi relax a little: He could do this.

Rather than launch into a flurry of steps to match Jeongguk, the Hosoon prince began to dance slowly, with each movement carefully measured. His dark, dark eyes remained fixed on his partner, though, to show that his choice was meant to tease, to entice, rather than as an attempt at flouting the other prince’s attention. A wide smile cracked Jeongguk’s face at the choice of movements, and he gave a particularly pretty twirl just to tease Yoongi back. Sensing the push and pull of the dancers, the musicians changed the tempo the song – slowing it from a frantic march to a sweeping ballad. Jeongguk’s graceful gestures were still bold, but they too slowed. Yoongi used the change of pace to establish a rhythm with his mate-to-be, sweeping close and dancing away as he saw fit to test how willing the other prince was to bend to his will. Ever the perfect dance partner, the prince of Ayana easily matched Yoongi’s steps until they were moving in a swirling, elegant exchange where Yoongi was always just breaths from succeeding in catching his mate. As they danced, their pace increased until the ends of their robes all but snapped with their sharp turns, and their perfectly coifed hair had let loose a few strands to curl becomingly around their flushed faces. But, no matter how hard Yoongi tried to catch his mate, Jeongguk would always flutter away, never to be caught. Mildly frustrated, the prince wondered if the other alpha even wanted the union – he certainly did not seem to intend for Yoongi to catch up to him. And yet, when their eyes met, Yoongi saw only warmth and welcome there. Perhaps there was something he was missing.

Instead of continuing the hunt, Yoongi decided that another course of action was in order. Drawing in a steadying breath, he ceased the pursuit and instead began to dance in a way that invited Jeongguk to join him. There was an open space in each movement where the taller alpha could come close and unite with Yoongi, but there was no force to the gestures. That, it seemed, did the trick. No sooner had the Hosoon prince changed his dance than he suddenly found his taller mate-to-be curled around his back. Their bodies at last moved together; the breath from Jeongguk’s lungs seemingly filling Yoongi’s body. The sudden warmth of Jeongguk pressed so close was nearly overwhelming, and his scent seared itself into the alpha’s brain. Jeongguk truly was like the sun: He smelled of apple blossoms and sun warmed earth. It was addicting and on the gentler side of the spectrum for an alpha’s musk.

When the music at last stopped, Yoongi was neatly tucked in Jeongguk’s arms, which was not entirely uncomfortable. A bit too warm, perhaps, but maybe that was just because of the dancing. Regardless, Yoongi quickly stepped free and turned to face his mate. At his side, Jongin gently cleared his throat and held out the ceremonial goose, which was swaddled in red silk, out to his prince. Taking the bird, Yoongi strode over to where Kings Minho and Taemin awaited. He bowed and held out the goose with both hands. “My kings, I hope you will accept this gift as a token of longevity, that it might represent the family bond forged between my family and your own this night.”

Taemin gently took the bird into his arms and smiled down at Yoongi. “We happily accept and welcome you into our family, Prince Yoongi. May you and Jeongguk have many fruitful years together.” Leaning down, he then pressed a light kiss to Yoongi’s forehead, causing the young alpha to flush.

“Thank you, my king,” he mumbled, trying to regain his dignity as best he could by remaining stoic. Yoongi then turned and all but marched back to Jeongguk. The younger prince smiled widely at him, teeth poking out prominently and nose crinkling cutely. “Sun of my sky,” Yoongi declared, holding out a hand, “do you accept me?”

Slipping his hand into Yoongi’s, Jeongguk gave his fingers a squeeze. “I accept you. And I vow to be the best mate that I can, and to stand beside you through whatever storms life may cast upon us. I will brighten your days, warm your nights, and help you to flourish throughout our lives together.” He tipped his head cutely to one side. “And you, my sky? Do you accept me?”

Yoongi nodded slightly. “I accept you. And I vow to be the best mate I can – to be worthy of your devotion. I will give you a safe place to call home, the freedom to dance to the dictates of your own heart, and a family in which you can flourish. These things and more, I promise I will become.”


End file.
